-putting bags of clothes on the back porch to be dropped off at a thrift store. these are the 4th and 5th bags of clothes they have outgrown since we arrived here just 10 weeks ago. growth spurts, skinned knees, awkward limbs and shoes tightening over growing feet. I am weeding out pants and shirts that I carried overseas thinking we needed them. Fleeting. I can’t get over how fast it all happens.
-wringing the water out of little red wool long johns, hanging them to dry and be packed away for the summer. when I unpack them next winter, they will of course be too small. but I can’t part with them yet. They were on my kids all winter and spring in Palestine. Then winter and spring here. They were filled by my 2 sleeping (or not) babies who are not babies at all anymore.
-it occurs to me that I love them in the most incredibly heart wrenching, irritating, amazing way and yet they are not mine at all. of course they aren’t.
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”
–Khalil Gibran. This is the poem that was going through my head when I was in labor with Sufyan.
I have always known this, just as all mothers know it. but you can’t really know it until you watch them begin to turn outward and away from you while you patiently wait for their loving gaze to return to you, like it always did when they were newborn. You wait for longer and longer as they grow, until you feel a bit silly being a third wheel to their love affair with life! what other thing do we fall so deeply in love with, tend and nurture with our very bodies, willingly trade our old lives for so that in our new lives as parents we will ensure that we will be left behind, our hearts broken and mended in so many places that the ocean flows freely within it? Sometimes I am stunned by the love that is not and never was mine to keep. It’s such a beautiful truth.
-I am going to bed after packing our bags. tomorrow we leave for a long car ride, then an overnight in a hotel and the next morning Sufyan will have his 3rd dental surgery since January. For the 3rd time he will go under anesthesia, face his fear of masks and “pokies” and doctors–alone no matter how close I am standing and no matter how tightly I hold his hand. I am certain he will be fine, but prayers, good thoughts, love sent his way can’t do anything but help. Please hold my little guy and all little ones who have to face their fears and do more than they should have to at their young ages in your heart. I’ll be doing the same…along with a fair amount of anxiously waiting to hear from his doctor that he is fine and waking up and I can go see him.
(parenting thought for the day and yoga thought for the day on hold until post-surgery)